Enigma
by Cowboy's Goil
Summary: A girl travels to New York from London and finds herself right in the middle of a newsie borough war that is affecting all the city. With her background will she be able to help or will her memories of her past interfere? R & R!
1. Chapter 1

**_To live in the hearts we leave behind is to never die._**

**_-Thomas Campbell_**

As I write this my pen trembles in my grasp. For the sake of those who are pure and light I pray that I am insane. For the horrors that I will tell you of whisper only in your worst nightmare. For those who live in the light go no further as you will witness things of great evil, deeds that I am greatly ashamed of. I tell you this knowing that I am past saving, that there is no hope for me. The darkness already knows of me. Please go on, do not tarry. Do not become corrupted. I have ignored the warnings of those wiser than me and shall pay the price for it time and time again. I know that I have become one of the wicked and I regret it with all of my being. Please, tarry no further. Leave me to the pain of my regrets.

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><p>Listen and you will hear the story of a girl, a girl who was just looking to escape her past and move on. A girl who was trying to make amends for what she did. A girl who was ruthless, cruel and merciless, yet just wanted to find a way out of her life.<p>

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><p><em>A small girl maybe three years old, laying in a small cot in a simple hut, her mother was sitting on the side of the cot singing to the girl. <em>

_"You may travel far from your own native land_  
><em>Far away o'er the mountains, far away o'er the foam<em>  
><em>But of all the fine places that I've ever been<em>  
><em>Sure there's none can compare with the Cliffs of Dooneen<em>

_Take a view o'er the mountains, fine sights you'll see there_  
><em>You'll see the high rocky mountains o'er the west coast of Clare<em>  
><em>Oh the towns of Kilkee and Kilrush can be seen<em>  
><em>From the high rocky slopes round the cliffs of Dooneen<em>

_It's a nice place to be on a fine summer's day_  
><em>Watching all the wild flowers that ne'er do decay<em>  
><em>Oh the hares and the loft pheasants are plain to be seen<em>  
><em>Making homes for their young round the cliffs of Dooneen<em>

_Fare thee well to Dooneen, fare thee well for awhile_  
><em>And to all the kind people I'm leaving behind<em>  
><em>To the streams and the meadows where late I have been<em>  
><em>And the high rocky slopes round the cliffs of Dooneen"<em>

_"Sing it again Mummy!" "Hush now Kilmeny! 'Tis time for thee to sleep. Hush now..."_

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><p><em>"Mummy?" "Yes, my heart?" "Why is daddy so still and cold looking? Does he need a blanket?" "No my heart, your daddy doesn't"<em>

__ need a blanket." "Oh." "Mummy? Is daddy coming back? I miss my daddy." "No dearest. Daddy had to leave." __

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><p><em><em>"Mummy? Why did Jonathan run away? Did he go to find daddy?<em>___" "No Dearest, he didn't. Daddy isn't coming back. Lord willing Jonathan will."__

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><p><em>The same girl, yet a few years older. "Now, listen up. The bast way to stop someone from chasing you is to throw a piece of glass or something sharp like a knife or a shard of steel at the Achilles tendon, that way the tendon will roll up like a window-shade and they will collapse... The best way to slash a throat is from left to right... Don't EVER turn your back on someone with a knife... Never run into an alleyway that you don't know... Never assume anything about your opponent..."<em>

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><p><em>"Go Kilmeny!" "No! I can't leave you all here to perish! The blades are going to kill everyone here until they find me!" "Of course! That's why you have to leave so they don't find you! Here take your key back, find your brother Jonathan, you always told us that he was going to New York. You go there, don't fret about us." "Pigeon, you'll die if you stay here!" "And if you stay here, so will you. I am at peace with God do not fret. It is in the Bible that it says the greatest sacrifice is for one man to give his life for his brother. I am giving my life for you, my leader, all of us are, go now, run and find your way to America. I love you my sister. Do not forget us." "And I love thee also, Miriam. I wilt never forget the gift that you have given me." I clasped her head in my hands and kissed her forehead, my tears making tracks through her sooty face, my tears were soon joined by hers as we hugged each other for the last time. She pushed me away, handing me my key, I looped the rawhide cord around my neck and stepped back weeping openly. She blew me a kiss with shaking fingers and turning, dashed back into the burning building that had been our home. I turned also, away from the bonfire that had been the home that had sheltered me for the past 5 years and ran, my sobs shaking my steps 'til I gave in to the racking sobs and stumbling, fell against a building and let the tears and my guilt over my lost friends overcome me.<em>

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><p><em>A girl and a Priest in a small Irish chapel. "Ta bron orm as an meid ata deanta agam. Ta a fhios agam nach bhfuil aon seans dom." The priest looked down at the girl sadly. "My child, God always forgives those that have sinned." "No father, I have done to much for Him to forgive. I just wish your blessing before I leave." "And you shall have it my daughter. But do not hesitate to ask his forgiveness." The girl nodded and standing, left the pew and walked out of the church, a small 'plop' accompanying each step as a tear fell to hit the worn stones. The steps became strides which in turn led to running until the girl was running out of the church, not looking back. The priest shook his head musing that it was such a young girl to be worried about her sins. Little did he know that she did no longer care about her sins, she was sure that nothing and no one could save her from her life, but now all she cared about was her friends. She needed forgiveness not for her acts but for leaving her friends to their death. <em>

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><p><em>The girl was standing on the top deck of a ship christened Whitesail, the wind was whipping her hair and skirts about her but she did not move a single muscle. At a moments glance she appeared to be enjoying the trip to a new land, but if you stopped to look you would notice that tears were streaming down her face and she was facing where the ship had came from. She was remembering the times that she had spent in London, the good and the bad alike. The tears came down harder as she realized that both the good and bad times had been spent with her friends, her gang, her surrogate family. The memories of her childhood flowed over her as she realized that she was now alone, completely and utterly alone.<em>

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><p><strong>AN** So what did you all think? I thought it was kinda depressing. Try writing listening to Beethoven Op. 95 string quartet. Depressing. Anyway this was a prologue of sorts and next chapter Kiss (Kilmeny) will be in New York. Yes I am trying my hand at a sibling fic. (the Key on the rawhide cord?) But I am trying to make it different. So! Review and my muse will be happy! (Right now its depressed if ya can't tell! ;) ) So Review and tell me what you thought! And I might need characters for newsies so if you want to be in the story just PM me and let me know that you are interested!

Thanks!

Angeline.


	2. The Bronx

**A/N** Hi! This is the first "real" chapter in my story. I hope ya'll like it! Please review! I have a poll on my profile, please vote in it also. And thanks to my AWESOME Beta-Reader. You know who you are. So, review, thanks!

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><p><em><strong>It only takes a few short seconds to say hello,<strong>_

_**But it takes a lifetime to say goodbye.**_

_(3rd person POV)_

Kiss had been in New York for three days. She had yet to find a permanent place to stay. She was living on the streets in the true sense of the phrase. Sleeping in crates and under porches. Eating what she could find or steal. Running around during the day, trying to find some job or way to make just a little spare change. So far Kiss had made forty cents by pick-pocketing. She wasn't the best at picking someone's pocket. Back in London if she wanted some extra money she just sent out one of her kissers to do the job. Kiss was passible at it but she definitely could not make a living at it. She was used to going without food for a several days at a time, she definitely did not prefer going without food as she was not as strong and her reflexes not as quick if she had not eaten for the past few days, but she could still get by. She had had a meal at one of those cheap diners that you see almost everywhere, this one bore the name of "Ray's". She had had just enough for a roast beef sandwich and 4 glasses of cheap vodka. Kiss had needed something to help her forget her memories. It had worked for the night and the memories, and a hangover, accompanied by a very painful headache, were back in the morning.

Kiss had slightly more pressing problems at the moment, such as finding a job. Unfortunately, being a assassin did not teach you very many job skills. If you were, say a seamstress if you wanted to switch jobs you could become, say, a dressmaker or get a job in a sewing factory or become a dressmakers shop assistant or any number of things. Being a assassin and a gang leader however did not leave you many options. Kiss was not stupid enough to try to take over a gang as she had just herself and no fighters. That left being a factory worker, dying on the streets, a shoe-shine "boy" and a newsie. Kiss had decided that of the four options, being a newsie was the best option. She figured that no one would ask to many revealing questions if she became a newsie. She was not unfamiliar with the trade, there were newsies in London, a group of tough, unruly, ruffians without a leader. She hoped that the newsies in New York were slightly more organized. Now all she had to do was find a newsie, convince them that she should be one also and try to conquer her memories. Easier said than done.

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><p><em>(Kiss POV)<em>

I awoke in the morning to the sounds of New York.  
>Whistles blowing, vendors yelling their jingles to get people's attention, each trying to out do the other. And of course the usual waking up sounds of a big city. I stood up and stretched, the palms of my hands hitting the brick walls of the two buildings on either side of me. If I had to sleep on the street I preferred a small alleyway. Less traffic through the alleyway if no one could get through. The buildings on both sides of me were tenement houses. I was used to the slums and the dirty, rough areas of a city. If anything I felt more comfortable there. No one was pretended to be someone they weren't and they all knew the pecking order. In London the pecking order was, Me, Aces and Pigeon (My two seconds), and then my kissers, and after that, everyone else. No one bothered me and I knew that in London, I could pass through a rival gang's territory and no one would lay a hand on me. Everyone feared me and no one would even dare to bother me. I figured that in New York City even if no one knew who I was, at least I could take care of myself. I was comfortable hearing the various languages spoken above my head. I could speak fluent Irish (or as the Irish called it, Gaelic) it was my first language after all! And I could also carry on a broken conversation in French. I heard yelling in Spanish, French and one other language (possibly Italian?) above me. I finished my stretch and straightened. Time to find a newsie. And breakfast.<p>

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><p>After leaving the alley I stole a roll from a bakery stand, the roll was hard and stale but since I had not eaten for the past two days it could have been a fluffy, white, fresh roll direct from the king's table. I had walked about a mile away from the bakery stand before I started to eat my meager breakfast and to look for a newsie. I had spotted a runner and what looked like a birdie before I saw a distribution center. The birdie had been watching me. I was sure of it. I made a mental note to find out who the birdie belonged to, if in fact it was a birdie. The sign above the gate of the distribution center read, "The Bronx Times." I took a step behind a convenient tree and watched the boys roughhouse in the line. I didn't see any girls but that didn't mean that there weren't any. I watched as a tall, black haired boy came walking up. All activity halted and all talk ceased. The boy strode to the front of the line and waited. Stoic and immobile he stood, not making a sound. The window opened and the boys traded their hard-earned money for a stack of newspapers. The crowd of ruffians dispersed. I followed the boy, he walked through the pedestrians not making a sound until he reached the corner of two large streets. He held up a paper and opened his mouth.<p>

"MAYOR'S FAMILY KILLED IN FATAL ACCIDENT!"

Fingering one of my knifes that was hidden in a sheath around my arm, I approached the boy. If you were the type that liked boys like him, he would be considered very handsome. Tall with black hair and brown eyes and a unblemished face he was handsome but in his eyes I saw a cruel man only interested in hurting others and in having power. As he saw me approach he smiled. Somehow the smile just made shivers go up and down my spine.

"Hello, Beautiful. What can you do for me?"

I swallowed my distaste and replied. "Nothing. I wanted you to do something for me. I was wondering if I could be a newsie." I winced. That sounded prissy. I hated asking anyone anything. I was used to ordering people around. "Oh, honey, you wouldn't do good as a newsie. Girls aren't good at that sort of thing."

"Try me." I crossed my arms over my chest, daring him to refuse.

He shrugged. "Fine with me. I'm Hell-Raiser. Da leader of the Bronx. You answer to me, and me only. Lodging is ten cents a week. Andrews is the lodging house owner, you can pay it to him." I nodded. "Sounds fine. What about food?" He held up a paper as he replied. "Andrews serves us breakfast every morning. Lunch and dinner ya have to buy yourself. Sundays Andrews gives us breakfast and dinner. Excuse me." He walked up to a group of teenage factory girls. "Buy a pape?" He gave them a sly smile and winked. The girls tittered and giggled, each one buying a paper. I rolled my eyes. "_Idiots." _He walked back over to me. "So, have ya ever sold papes before?" I shook my head. "Nope." He shrugged. "Okay den, I'll teach ya. So the first thing you have to do is lie. The idiots that write the headlines always try to make dem as boring as possible. So the headline today is "Mayor's cat killed." Nobody in dere right mind is gonna read dat. So the cat is part of the Mayor's family, and it was killed, so that's how I got the headline "Mayor's family killed in fatal accident." Ya got it?" When I nodded he went on. "Good, here's five papes go sell them. Come back when ya finished." I took the "papes" and walked to the other end of the block. Holding a paper up I yelled.

"MAYOR'S FAMILY KILLED!" I figured that he wouldn't mind if I took his headline. Two middle-aged ladies came running up. I exchanged two papers for two pennies. I repeated the process until I had sold all five. Feeling proud of myself I ran back to the boy.

"I sold all of em."

"It took ya long enough. Here's ten more." He handed them to me and I ran off sulkily. I sold the ten papers and turned to see Hell-Raiser standing behind me, leaning on a light-post, watching.

"What?" I snapped.

"Calm down. I was just waiting. Come with me. I'll take ya to the Bronx lodging house."

I huffed in annoyance and followed.

The lodging house turned out to be less than a mile from Hell-Raiser's selling spot. It was a three-story dilapidated, red-brick building, desperately in need of a fresh coat of paint on the shutters, and a handful of repairs, such as the missing front steps. Hell-Raiser ignored the fact that the first three steps were missing and merely jumped over the large hole. I was not as tall, therefore my legs were shorter, I had to make a very uncoordinated running leap. I fell onto the porch, if it was in fact a porch, that fact was up for debate, it was merely a ledge in front of the door. Hell-Raiser laughed coldly and opened the door. He went inside and I followed, shutting the door behind me. The bottom floor of the inside of the lodging house was one big room, twenty or so newsies were grouped around one table, eight playing cards and the rest making bets on who would win. Hell-Raiser pointed the desk out to me and showed me where to write my name. I deposited 10 of my last 55 cents into a brown glass jar. Andrews, he informed me, was out. He did not say where and I was sure that I didn't want to know. Hell-Raiser went up a ladder to the second floor, there were no stairs anywhere, I decided to see what card game the other newsies were playing.

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><p>"What are ya doin'?" A tall, muscular boy turned from the table, attracting everyone's attention to Kiss.<p>

"I am trying to watch, however, you are in the way." Her reply was icily polite.

"Oh am I?" He put a hand to his chest, pretending to be shocked. "Oh! I am so sorry. Should I move?"

"Yes, if you would kindly move I could see." Her eyes went from a light blue-green to a stone-cold ice blue. Her right hand strayed to her pocket, and her slim fingers grasped the jade hilt of her knife.

"What if I don't want to move?" The boy smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. He arrogantly blew a wisp of dark brown hair out of his face and leaned against the table.

Kiss pretended to ponder this for a moment. "Well then, I guess I will just have to move you myself."

He chuckled heartily. "Ya think that ya could move me?"

Kiss nodded, she nonchalantly studied her fingernails of her left hand. "Of course."

The boy slapped the back of the newsie next to him and whispered something in his ear. The newsie laughed and waved his arms.

"Hey fellas! This broad thinks dat she can move Grim!"

The 18 or so other newsies all turned to stare at me. I fought the urge to give them a big cheeky smile and a little wave. I merely stared back. One of the boys from the other side of the table came over to me. He had red hair and dozens of freckles, he was also about 5 inches taller than her. He reached out a hand and pinched Kiss's upper arm. Kiss yanked her arm back.

"Don't touch me!" She hissed.

The red-haired boy turned back to the other boys.

"Feisty, just like I like em! I'll take first dibs on 'er, and the bedroom!"

Kiss growled deep in her throat. "Like hell ya will!" She grabbed the boy's right arm and twisted it behind his back, pushing it up in a unnatural position. "Now, I think you were about to take that back. Am I right?" The boy attempted to squirm away but Kiss kicked the back of his kneecap with the copper tip of her boot. He hissed in pain. "YA! I... I... I... take it back okay!" Kiss released his arm violently and let him fall to the ground. He sat up and rubbed his arm. She looked up to the first boy, Grim he was called. "Would you please move now?" He silently stepped aside. She stepped up to the table. All was silent. Everyone's eyes were on her. Kiss sighed. Throwing down her cap on the table she cursed.

"Goddamnit! Just quit staring and play already! He insulted me, I hurt him. End of story. All I wanted to do was to see! Damn, this is worse than Fehler!" She turned to Grim, holding out her hand she spit in it. "Look I'm sorry, now bug off." They shook, the spit squashing between their hands in a barbaric sign of friendship.

"Most broads don't do dat."

Kiss snorted. "No shit Sherlock. I ain't most broads. Da name's.." She paused, she couldn't tell them that her name was Kiss of Death and she didn't want to tell them her real name, that was too personal and also Kilmeny was a slightly unusual name even in Ireland.

**If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.**

_Black hair fell into his eyes as he laughed. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. "I'm Blades. This is my gang, the Blades." I couldn't help but smirk at his revelation. _

_"Oh. That's so damn original. Couldn't think of anything better?" I put my hands on my hips and cocked an eyebrow. "So, what did you want?"_

_"I just wanted to inform you that now that I am leader, I am declaring war on you."_

_I stopped laughing. "You think that you can destroy the largest gang in London? I don't think so. How insane are you?"_

_As it turned out, my question would be answered in the weeks and months to come. Murders and Spies, Battles and Fires, Sieges and Kidnappings. All the people that I held close to me, my friends and family, my fighters, my spies, my runners and my thieves, none were spared. The bloody battles that wreaked havoc on the streets of London and on my Kissers, the ones that were still alive swore to wreak revenge on those that had destroyed the peacefulness of the streets. Until the one night that the fire was set. I had vowed to never underestimate the oppenent, and the one night that I let my guard down, just for a second, all was lost. That night haunted me forever, and I think that it always will. Memories of my friends screaming in the flames. The acrid smell of burning flesh. I had vowed to kill Blades. Instead like the coward that I was, I ran. I ran to America. The land of Promise and Freedom. Lady Liberty, the Stars and Stripes. I ran. _

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I snapped out of my trance.

"Yes?"

"What do ya want us to call ya?"

I took a deep breath.

"Blades."


End file.
